Alliances
by SeverusFreakingSnape
Summary: Set at the beginning of Harry's 7th year. He returns to Hogwarts to find a new headmaster, who is not all that he seems.
1. Chapter 1  Journey Home

Leaning his head back against the train-seat, Harry smiled silently to himself. He had left the Dursley's for the last time and never had to go back there again.

Ron was sat beside him, and Hermione opposite Ron, her head stuck in a book, eyes flickering from side to side as she attentively read it's contents. They were returning to Hogwarts for the last time, but Harry silently vowed to stay in touch with his best friends after he left school.

This was his last year at Hogwarts, and he knew already that he was going to miss it when it was over. He would even miss the lessons, perhaps not divination, or potions with Snape –

Snape, that bastard, thought Harry viciously. He had always hated Snape, and never trusted him, but last summer his hatred had been justified. Snape had betrayed Dumbledore, the very man who had solely put his trust in him.

Harry would never forgive him, no matter what.

The train rolled through endless countryside, but Harry watched the scenery, for he knew it would be the last time that he boarded the train to Hogwarts.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?"

"Oh yeah, umm.. two pumpkin pasties, and a cauldron cake, please?" Hermione asked, and then added. "D'you want anything, Ron, Harry?"

"No thanks," Ron murmured, looking up.

"Every flavour beans, please?" Harry asked, standing up and taking the money out of his pocket.

He sat back down with the jellybeans, offering Ron and Hermione some.

"Ew! Cotton wool!"

Harry sniggered at Ron, who mock punched him on the arm. "Gimme another would you?"

Harry put the packet on the seat between the three of them, and they sat chatting and eating.

"I wonder who's gonna be in charge this year, what with Dumbledore gone," Ron said between mouthfuls of sweets.

"Professor McGonagall I suppose," Hermione replied, looking up from her book.

"That'll be cheerful." Harry snorted.

Suddenly, the train came to an abrupt halt, sending the packet of jellybeans flying onto the floor and scattering everywhere. An eerie silence followed, which seemed to extend for several minutes as Harry stared worriedly at Hermione, who returned his stare.

Harry was reminded unpleasantly of the time Dementors had boarded the train, but it was still daytime and he could not feel the cold, horrible feeling that he usually associated with Dementors.

Eventually he stood up and opened the door to the compartment, peering down the corridor. It was filled with students doing as he was – poking their heads out of their doors and looking curiously up and down the carriage. Suddenly a red light filled the corridor, and unmistakably a curse was shot at the ceiling, rebounding and smashing through a window at the far end of the corridor.

Many students screamed, and cleared back into their compartments, but some were staring, shocked at the source of the attack. Hermione appeared behind Harry to look down the corridor.

"What's happen-" she began, but then saw the approaching figures at the end of the corridor and instantly jerked Harry back into the compartment and slammed the door shut, locking it with her wand.

"What is it?" Ron asked hurriedly.

"Death Eaters" Harry and Hermione spat in unison.

"They're here for me," Harry whispered. He was panicking, and couldn't think straight.

"Harry get under your invisibility cloak." She implored, adding "_Now!_" as he sat shock still.

He reached for his cloak as more windows smashed down the corridor, and screams erupted from a compartment near theirs.

Hermione was muttering a torrent of spells under her breath, her wand pointed at the door. "Harry get under your cloak!" she repeated furiously.

"Fine, but you two are coming under as well, though," he told them both.

"Harry don't you think an empty compartment with protective spells on it is going to look a _bit_ suspicious?"

"Then take off the spells!" he dragged the cloak over them all, and indicated to them to move towards the window, away from the door.

Hermione reluctantly waved her wand to remove the protective spells, and backed up against the window with him and Ron, hidden under the cloak, all three of them clutching their wands tightly.

There was a loud crashing in the neighbouring compartment, and shouts from the Death Eaters.

"WHERE IS HE?" a deep, male voice yelled.

"I-I don't know!" Harry's heart sank as he heard Ginny pleading with the Death Eater, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body smashing against glass.

"I have to help!" Harry whispered urgently, ducking down to get out from under the cloak, but Hermione held him back. "No Harry, you can't!"

Ron was clenching his fists and looked as though he was about to be violently sick. "You must stay hidden."

A door smashed open, the glass shattering outwards so that Harry could see the fragments flying past the door of their compartment. Three Death Eaters appeared at their door, and Harry pressed himself more firmly against the glass windowpane, his jaw clenched and his breathing fast but steady.

One was lumpy and stooping, one short and chubby and the other looked rather like a bodybuilder – huge and muscular. All were cloaked in black, their faces covered with ornate shielding masks and their wands brandished, ready for any attack.

"This one's empty," the short one grunted.

"I realised that _Alecto. _Worth a check though, eh?" the muscular one sneered, pushing open the door roughly. He walked into the doorway, casting his eyes around the compartment, at the jellybeans scattered across the floor and the discarded potions book that Hermione had been reading.

"Oi, Dolohov? Whats that?" the stooped man said, pointing to the luggage rack. Harry's heart missed a beat. In their haste, they had left their trunks and Hedwig's owl cage on view.

The tall, muscular man, Dolohov, let out a low, venomous chuckle. "Well, well... well. Take a look at those, Amycus." He kicked aside the packet of jellybeans and held his wand up, pointing at their cases.

The lumpy, stooping man, Amycus, obeyed silently, leaning up to pull Harry's trunk off the rail. "Ha! Look at this, Dolohov!" his voice was waspish and full of delight, "Property of Harry Potter."

The stubby Alecto let out a low, wheezy giggle.

"_Homenum Revelio!" _Dolohov shouted suddenly, flicking his wand in a circle around the small compartment, and Harry felt something swooping over him like a great shadow.

"Someone's there!" he shouted triumphantly. He pointed his wand directly at the spot where Harry, Ron and Hermione stood pressed against the glass pane. Harry raised his wand, ready for an attack.

"Show yourself."

Silence. Hard, shallow breathing.

"Stupefy!" Dolohov shouted, the red light illuminating the compartment suddenly. Harry, who had been preparing for an attack, deflected the spell instantly, but with such power that he knocked into Hermione. She slipped and her wand shot upwards, sending sparks flying at the ceiling. Dolohov shot another curse which hit Ron, who was too busy trying to lift Hermione and keep her covered by the cloak. He fell from under the cloak and slumped against the seat, unconscious.

Alecto and Amycus were both firing spells now, not caring who or what they hit. The entire space within the small compartment was filled with bright sparks as curses deflected from the walls. Hermione shot a well aimed "Petrificus Totalus!" at Alecto, who crumpled, frozen. Yelling with rage, Amycus sent the Cruciatus curse at the point were Hermione's arm had slipped from under the cloak, narrowly missing her, but rebounding off the wall behind them and hitting Harry square in the back.

His invisibility cloak flew off both of them and he was sent crashing to the ground in excruciating pain. As the pain subsided, bright lights tore above him, and Hermione fell onto the seat next to the unconscious Ron, her wand blasted out of her hand and a gash on her left cheek.

Harry rolled onto his stomach and tried to get up, but a heavy foot slammed between his shoulder blades, smashing him painfully onto the ground again, and his wand was wrestled from his grip and jabbed sharply into his neck.

The huge man knelt down beside him and whispered dangerously in his ear.

"Gotcha."


	2. Chapter 2  Betrayal

Harry was dragged to his feet, his arms pinned behind his back by Dolohov. Alecto was on her feet again, and had knocked out Hermione, so that she lay next to Ron, both of them unconscious.

Harry swore loudly at the Death Eaters, and instantly felt a crashing blow to the side of his head.

"Tut tut tut, now _that_ won't do, will it?" Amycus sneered, bring back his fist to hit Harry again. His nose throbbed, and spurted blood instantly.

"Now now Amycus," Dolohov reasoned, pinning Harry's arms tighter behind his back so that his shoulders screamed out in protest. "The headmaster wants to speak with him; therefore he does need to be _conscious._"

"Very well." Amycus sighed, disappointment etched into his voice as he lowered his fist.

Dolohov let go of Harry's arms, but pointed his wand towards Harry's wrists, so that a pair of handcuffs formed, tightly binding his arms together behind his back. He was facing the door of the compartment, and behind Amycus and Alecto, he saw the small face of Colin Creevey peering around the doorframe.

Dolohov noticed Colin too, for he raised his wand threateningly.

"No, Colin... _RUN_!" Harry shouted, and Colin ducked away from the door just in time as a curse shot his way.

"After him!" Dolohov ordered, and Amycus ran out into the corridor, firing spells and smashing more windows.

"No, please! He's just a boy! he didn't know what he was doing!" Harry pleaded.

Alecto smirked in his face, causing him to swear venomously at her again. He pulled his arms against the binds but they only grew tighter, cutting into the flesh on his wrist.

"Enough of your trash, Potter," Dolohov sighed, and gagged Harry so that he could no longer speak. Alecto laughed hollowly at this and Harry glared back fiercely, for it was all that he could do.

"Shall we take these?" She indicated towards the unconscious forms of Ron and Hermione.

"Our instructions did not concern them. Get Potter, and take him to the Headmaster. Let's go."

Harry felt himself pushed roughly towards the door, and out into the corridor. He struggled against his captor, but Dolohov was twice his size and probably didn't even feel Harry's feeble and pointless attempts to break free. From here he could see the full extent of the damage that the three Death Eaters had wreaked on the train. The door at the end had been blasted right off its hinges, and lay in wooden and glass shards on the floor. Most of the windows down the length of the train had been smashed, too, simply for the enjoyment of causing damage, Harry supposed. As they walked, Harry could tell that all of the students on the front half of the train had been knocked out unconscious, and shut back in their compartments. They would wake – and remember very little - by the time the train reached Hogwarts. If it did.

Harry and the two Death Eaters reached the front of the train, and Harry was once again held in a firm grip whilst Alecto brought the driver back to consciousness with her wand. She muttered a few spells and incoherent words in his ear, then shut the cabin door behind her as the train began to slide forwards again.

"No problems I trust?" Dolohov released Harry.

"He shouldn't remember much." She replied with a wheezy chuckle. "Wouldn't matter if he did. The ministry's ours now."

Noticing Harry again, she straightened out her cloak and reached to grab Harry's arm.

"You take his left, I'll take-"

"I'll take him myself, I'm perfectly capable."

"Fine, but I'm coming. I want credit for this too, Dolohov."

Harry felt a growing sense of dread. Where was he being taken? And who was the new headmaster that so wished to speak with him? That ruled out McGonagall, he supposed. This would _never _be her doing. Not that it really mattered who the new head teacher was. Inevitably he would see his death soon, at Voldemort's hand, unless he found a way out quickly.

He struggled against the binds on his wrists again, but once more, they grew tighter and more painful, as if they were embedding themselves in his skin.

"I wouldn't try getting free, Potter. Shrinking charm." Dolohov explained. "The more you struggle, the tighter these chains will become. So save yourself the pain and stand still, will you?"

As Harry could no longer speak, he threw Dolohov the filthiest look he could muster, but stopped struggling against the binds, for he could feel blood tricking down onto the back of his hand. They had cut into his flesh already.

"Come, we must hurry. Where is Amycus?"

"Here." Amycus suddenly appeared next to his sister, smirking broadly.

"The Colin boy?"

"Consider him dealt with." He sneered, watching to see Harry's reaction. When all he received was a wide-eyed, angry glare, he added. "Screamed like a girl when I Crucio'ed him."

Harry launched himself at Amycus, only to be held back by a thick arm around his neck, crushing into his windpipe and pulling him backwards. "Control your temper, Potter!" Dolohov yelled angrily.

Harry continued to struggle against Dolohov's wide arm, but all he managed was to shift and stumble around in the largest Death Eater's grip, crushed by his arm and unable to breathe.

"Enough." Dolohov said, more calmly this time. This made Harry more scared though, it was a command full of authority and finality. To Harry's relief, when he stopped struggling the grip around his neck lessened slightly, and he gasped in mouthfuls of fresh air. Dolohov grabbed his arm instead, one arm still locked around his neck, and they spun into crushing darkness.

They emerged in a familiar road; Dolohov, with Harry locked in his arms, looking tired but alert at the same time, Amycus and Alecto, both smirking with vindictive pleasure. The sun was setting behind Hogwarts, illuminating the building's outline in an auburn glow, reflecting light in shimmering lines on the rippling lake.

_Home, _Harry thought contentedly, although it wasn't quite the return home he had been imagining. He was pulled out of his reverie by rough hands pushing him forwards across the gravel path. He stumbled slightly, knocking into Amycus, who turned around furiously to hit him, but Dolohov stepped in between them and indicated silently to Harry to keep walking.

Harry did as he was told, and soon they reached the wrought-iron gates, which to Harry's surprise stood ajar, with no obvious means of protection. A stark contrast to the heavily guarded boundaries the previous year, Harry noted.

His shoulders were aching painfully from being pulled backwards for so long, and his wrists were stinging from the cuts where the chains had dug into them. He nose was bleeding down his face, and his neck was bruised from where Dolohov had practically strangled him. All of this combined with the constant throbbing in his scar that meant Voldemort was thinking hard and long about something, made Harry feel quite exhausted and in need of a good night's sleep, but he knew that wouldn't come for a while now.

They approached the castle doors as the last feeble rays of sunlight disappeared behind the silhouetted forest. Although Harry had only ever arrived at Hogwarts in the darkness, the castle now seemed darker than ever. The dark stone walls and empty black windows were not alight with the usual flickering candle flame, which added to the menacing, foreboding feeling that the building had suddenly impregnated in Harry's mind.

He was forced up the stone steps and into the entrance hall. The first thing that hit him was how cold the entire building was. Not a single fire was lit, so as well as the impenetrable cold, it was almost impossible to see through the darkness.

"Lumos" Amycus muttered. Even he sounded a little scared.

Using the light from his wand and Alecto's, Harry was guided silently through the corridors and up the stairs on the familiar path to the Headmaster's office. He was loosing hope of escaping rapidly now, but he gave one last, feeble tug on the chains around his wrists, half believing that they would just drop off and leave his hands free. Instead, as Dolohov had warned, they dug deeper, tighter, and sharper. He let out a hiss of pain that was muffled by the fabric around his mouth, and therefore went unnoticed. Even if he did manage to break free now, he had no wand and no doubt that Amycus would take the first opportunity he was given to Crucio all sanity out of him.

Silently admitting defeat, he walked – whilst being pushed and restrained – through the headmaster's door with his head held high.

He stifled a gasp as he saw how the room had been transformed. There were no longer any of Dumbledore's possessions scattering spindly legged tables. Black curtains were drawn across the windows – obliterating all light – but unlike the rest of the castle which had been enveloped by a ghostly cold, the room was warm thanks to a fire which had been lit in the corner, illuminating the room with a golden flickering glow.

More books had been added to the numerous collections that spanned the entire length of the walls; potion books and books on the Dark Arts, mainly. Dumbledore's pensive still stood in the same old cupboard against the wall; it seemed to be the only thing that had remained the same in the now dismal room.

"Ah, Potter." A deep, sneering, unmistakably identifiable voice came out of the shadows at the back of the room. A figure moved forwards into the light cast from the flames, and the bat-like features of Severus Snape came into view.

Horrified and betrayed, Harry launched himself at Snape. Dolohov restrained him, dragging him back into his grip and hissing venomously in his ear; "How many times do I have to tell you to _stop struggling?_"

The familiar boiling sensation in the pit of Harry's stomach burned alive again, igniting his hatred for Snape further. He had killed Dumbledore and now he stood, self-important and proud in the middle of the dead Headmaster's office. He had betrayed Dumbledore, and in repayment had been given a position of high power that was more than he had ever hoped for. If Harry had had his wand, he would have happily cursed Snape into oblivion.

"No problems, I presume?" Snape acknowledged Dolohov.

"None, Severus. The kids were no match for us." He said, almost proudly, as though beating up children was something to be proud of. "Although this one" he jerked his head towards Harry. "Wasn't so keen on.. ah, _coming quietly_."

Harry stood silently in the middle of the room, breathing hard, but trying to steady his emotions and not betray himself to the fear he felt.

Snape walked over to where he stood and looked down upon him, and Harry glared right back, channelling as much hatred and loathing into that glare as possible, reminding himself of how Snape had always looked at him. He remained still and silent, however; not that there was much choice, considering he was bound and gagged. The room was silent but for his heavy breathing and the light crackling of the fire.

Close up, Snape's features were much more prominent. The dark, penetrating eyes, the long hooked nose and thick curtains of greasy hair that lined Snape's face were emphasised by the darkness and flickering firelight casting shadows across his face, almost like the flickering of actual emotion. Hatred.

His black eyes moved over Harry's scar, his bloodied nose, and the bruise on his neck. And then he smirked that same, hate filled smirk he always used to mock Harry's "lamentable" potion-making or mundane Occlumency skills.

"You did a good job to bring him to me, Dolohov." He said at last, tearing his eyes from Harry's face. "The Dark Lord will be pleased. All credit goes to you of course." He nodded to the three Death Eaters.

"Alecto, Amycus, if you could be so kind as to make sure the students and teachers arrive safely to the castle? They will be here any minute."

Bowing slightly, the two Death Eaters left the room, shooting one last glance at Harry as they closed the door behind them with a soft _click. _A horrible, ominous silence followed as Snape surveyed Harry, and Dolohov stood indifferent by the fire, warming himself. Snape moved towards Harry again and removed the gag from his mouth. Red lines marked his face from where it had been tied too tightly. He stared at Harry for another minute as Harry tried to decipher any emotion that Snape was betraying, but none showed in his pale face.

"Kneel." He whispered the command softly, and suddenly.

"I- what?" Harry said. His throat felt scratchy as he talked.

"You heard me, _kneel_." He didn't not raise his voice, but simply put back that same hint of mocking hatred. Harry stood still, looking at the floor, trying to ignore the pain in his scar and the impenetrable glare that Snape was holding on him. Suddenly, Dolohov's huge crushing hands where on his shoulders and he was forced into a kneeling position at Snape's feet. Harry let out a gasp of pain – his shoulders were screaming in agony from being compressed together by the binds and the spot where the Cruciatus curse had hit his back earlier that day was throbbing painfully.

"You seem surprised to see me?" Snape raised an eyebrow, surveying the kneeling boy below him.

"I never thought an idiot like _you_ would get into a position of power." Harry spat bitterly.

"Potter, might I remind you that your hands are tied behind your _back_, your wand is nowhere _near_ you, and two men _twice _your age – and size - are standing above you who know about a _thousand_ different ways to kill you." His voice was getting louder now, angry. And then he added venomously; "Slowly... and painfully."

He nodded towards Dolohov, and seconds later Harry felt a crashing blow hit him in the diaphragm, making him double over in pain, which stretched his aching shoulders further into agony. He bit back tears of pain and anger, staring at the floor at Snape's feet through blurry eyes.

"Give me his wand."

Dolohov obliged, taking Harry's holly and phoenix wand from his left pocket and handing it to Snape, who examined it between his long thing fingers for a minute, before pocketing it and looking at Harry.

"We took his cloak, as well..."

Harry felt sick to the core, and the corrosive hatred towards Snape burned in him like a raging fire again.

"Excellent" Snape hissed, taking the cloak from Dolohov and letting it slip between his fingers, feeling the material on his skin while he surveyed the boy's face. He had always wanted to see that look of revulsion, humiliation and defeat on James Potter's face. He gloried in the moment a little longer, before reminding himself that he must keep track, and not let his hatred for the boy's father get in the way.

"Did you search him?" Snape asked.

"No."

Snape, sighed, and jerked his head towards Harry again. Expecting more pain, Harry flinched away, but Dolohov merely waved his wand at Harry's back. To his immense relief, the binds around his wrists disappeared and he relaxed his shoulders, letting his hands lie loosely on his legs.

Snape raised his eyebrows upon seeing the deep cuts that the chains had gouged into Harry's wrists. Dolohov pulled off Harry's robe so that he was kneeling in his trousers, shirt and tie. He patted Harry down, finding only the pouch around his neck that Hagrid had given him for his seventeenth birthday, and the map. He handed both to Snape.

"Oh _good,_" Snape smirked. "_Veerry _good. I'll be keeping this, Potter. You will have no use of it now." He pocketed the map.

"And what is this?" he asked, indicating towards the pouch. "Moleskin, I presume? Ahhh.. very clever. Only allows the _owner_ access to it's contents. So, tell me Potter, what do you have inside?"

Harry ignored the question. He could not tell Snape about the snitch that Dumbledore had left to him, nor the shard of mirror in which Dumbledore's eye kept mysteriously appearing. Instead, he said the same thing that he had yelled at Snape the night Dumbledore had been murdered.

"He trusted you." Harry's voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. But Snape heard him, and knew of whom he spoke.

"Leave us, Dolohov" he said suddenly, unexpectedly. "It seems Potter and I have some unsettled business to... attend to. I shall see you at dinner in five minutes."

Dolohov bowed his head and gave the moleskin pouch one last, curious look.

He closed the door slowly behind him, watching Harry being dragged off the floor by his hair and pressed up against the wall. Once the door was shut he walked away slowly in the direction of a great hall, listening intently.

There was a pause, then a loud, drawn out scream of pain that echoed around the castle walls. Dolohov smiled with sadistic pleasure and walked off for his dinner.


	3. Chapter 3 Undying Pain

**A/N** – Thank you so much to all who reviewed, it gives me so much more confidence and euphoria when I read your lovely comments, thank you! Thanks also to my soul sisters, for listening patiently to my incessant Harry Potter babbling. I apologise.

- Harry -

"It seems Potter and I have some unsettled business to... attend to. I shall see you at dinner in five minutes."

Harry's heart filled with dread. He was wandless – defenceless, kneeling on the floor of Snape's office as the new headmaster's black eyes bored into his own. He was still breathing heavily from pain, anger and now fear.

He heard Dolohov walk towards the door, and suddenly Snape grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair and dragged him upwards. Pain was radiating through Harry's head as he allowed Snape to haul him forwards – not even trying to pull against Snape's grip. He was slammed into the wall and his back automatically concaved away from the pain. He faintly heard the door click shut, and Snape immediately let go of his hair, breathing fast and looking urgently at Harry.

"You must understand... I'm sorry, Potter, but this is necessary...- he mustn't know..."

Snape's voice was barely a whisper in Harry's ear. The disjointed words were not registering in Harry's mind. He wanted to lash out but didn't have the strength left in him; he thought he must be dreaming now.

He was faintly aware of Snape stepping back, raising his wand and muttering something under his breath, and suddenly unbearable pain coursed through every limb, every organ, every _cell_ of his body. He was screaming louder than ever before, as the flames of the Cruciatus curse savagely thrashed at his body like a thousand serrated knives tearing at his flesh, and then, blissfully, he passed out.

When Harry awoke, he remembered everything. Mostly the undying pain, although he tried to block this out of his mind as he opened his eyes. He was in his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, still wearing his school uniform which felt unpleasantly like it was sticking to his back with sweat. Something moved above him and Ron's worried looking face came into a blurred view.

"Hey mate." He said, trying and failing to make his voice casual. "Oh, here are your glasses."

The room became clearer, and Harry could now see that both Hermione and Ron were sat on either side of his bed. Hermione looked like she might be sick any minute, and she had dark circles lining her eyes. She smiled a little reluctantly when he looked at her.

"Are you guys ok?" Harry asked – shocked at how croaky and hoarse his voice sounded.

"Yeah we're fine" Ron told him. "How about you? You've haven't slept long, or well."

"I'm... Ok. Just a little sore. What time is it?"

"Ten o' clock. The feast finished three hours ago but you've been tossing about recklessly since we got back."

"What... happened?"

"Well I dunno about you mate, but we got knocked out and when we woke we'd arrived at Hogwarts and you weren't there. I brought your trunk up" he indicated to Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage beside his bed. "And then we were going to look for you but everyone was called the feast and we thought you'd be there but you weren't."

He paused, looking at Hermione uncertainly.

"Yeah I got... taken to er, see the new Headmaster."

"Snape?"

"You know?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yeah well... he sort of gave a speech after the sorting ceremony."

"I bet that was cheerful." Harry tried to sound light and casual. Hermione seemed to be on the verge of tears. "What did he say?" Harry asked.

"Not much. A lot about "times have changed" and then he just introduced the new staff. The Carrow's are teaching here." Ron muttered disdainfully.

Harry sucked in air and tried to sit up. This was a bad decision and made him much more aware of the still lingering pain in his body.

"Harry!" Hermione spoke up for the first time, and her voice was full of concern.

"Hermione, I'm fine" he reassured her, leaning back against his pillow nevertheless.

"What happened with you, anyway?" Ron asked, sitting over on his bed to give Harry more room.

Harry paused – unsure whether he wanted to tell them yet, but seeing the concern in Hermione's eyes he decided against the full truth.

"The Death Eaters just took me off the train and to Snape's office and .. well it was pretty much the same as what you said. "Times _have _changed."" He lied easily. It was partly the truth; everything was going to be different this year.

"How did you end up here?" Hermione asked uncertainly, clearly noticing that he had deliberately missed parts out of his story.

"I came up here afterwards. I was too tired to go to the feast." Harry avoided her eyes, apparently transfixed with the ceiling of the dormitory.

"Harry... where's your wand?" Hermione said forcefully. Both Ron and Hermione were watching Harry intently now. "The truth, this time." She added.

Silence.

Harry sighed. "Snape has it." He said finally.

He bit down on his tongue, trying to hide any emotion, but Hermione leaned closer to him on the bed, and stroked his hair away from his eyes. "You'll be ok, Harry." She said, her voice trembling slightly. "But you have to trust us. You were mumbling and tossing in your sleep, you have a bloody nose, marks on your face, not to mention your _wrists_." She spat the last word as if Harry's wrists were some unspeakable object. "And then you try to tell us you just talked with Snape and then came up here. Really, Harry it wouldn't take a genius to work it out." She smiled a watery smile and stood up.

"I'm going to try to heal your injuries. You'll have to stay still though."

"Thanks. Both of you... for understanding."

"We're here for you, mate." Ron shrugged, and stood up. He fetched a glass of water for Harry who drank deeply, appreciative of the cold liquid soothing his sore throat.

Hermione put Harry's hands in her lap and muttered a few spells carefully under her breath. She had a book open beside her, checking to make sure that she was doing the right thing. Sure enough, five slightly painful minutes later, the cuts on Harry's wrists had completely sealed up, leaving only a faint scar.

"Thanks, Hermione!" he grinned.

"No problem." She smiled back, looking faintly proud of her spell-work.

- Severus -

"You must understand.. I'm truly sorry, Potter, but this is necessary...- he mustn't know.." he whispered, barely audible above the weary boy's heavy breathing. The startlingly green eyes were locked on his, full of pain and anguish. He had no desire to add to their pain. He could barely look into those eyes himself. Every look was a stab in the heart, a reminder of her; the way she looked at him after had had called her that unforgivable name. The betrayal in her eyes was echoed in those of the boy who stood before him now.

Mercifully those eyes flickered, defeated, to stare at the floor, and now all he could see was that arrogant face.

"He trusted you!" The cold words echoed in his mind. _Ignorant boy! What does he know of trust? What does he know of what I've been through to protect him?_

He stepped away from the boy pressed fearfully against the wall, wandless, defenceless, and almost _lifeless. _Potter was a mirror image of what he had once been. Cornered, and at the mercy of James Potter and his gang. And now he had a chance for revenge. To exercise his power over the boy and watch James Potter's face contort in agony, hear him scream in pain.

_No. _A commanding voice – the voice of reason – said in his ear. _That's not what this is about. This is about proving beyond all reason whose side he was on. Dolohov would still be listening, and he could tell the others. Make the boy scream and they would never doubt his loyalties again. _

Okay, so it must be done. So why not enjoy the opportunity?

Before reason and logic could tell him otherwise, he raised his arm and pointed his wand directly at Potter's chest.

"_Crucio_"

The boy's screams mingled with his own as he awoke panting in his bed, looking around frantically, the pain filled green eyes still imprinted at the back of his mind.

_What have I done?_

- Harry -

Harry didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have done, for he woke again and Hermione was not there. Ron was snoring loudly as usual in the bed next to his. Harry sat up more comfortably this time. His glasses had been taken off his face and put on the bedside table, so he slipped them back on and looked at his clock. It was five o' clock in the morning. He got up and tiptoed into the common room, which he was relived to see looked very much the same as the year before; at least Snape had not inflicted his taste in décor on Harry's favourite part of the castle.

Deciding that he could do with a cold shower to wash away to stress of the previous night, he walked straight through the portrait hole – much to the annoyance of the Fat Lady. He regretted this decision at once. The corridors were incredibly dark and cold, but thankfully seemed deserted.

Harry headed in the direction of the boy's bathroom, sticking close to the walls to remain in the shadows. He pressed his palms flat against the wall, simply for something to touch; it comforted him to have something in his hands when he didn't have his wand. Peering around the corner at the end of the corridor, Harry saw Amycus slumped against the opposite wall, halfway down the passageway. He was snoring loudly at the top of the staircase.

_Damn. _Harry cursed inwardly. The bathroom was right at the bottom of that staircase. Making his mind up, he edged around the corner, his back pressed flat against the wall and his eyes fixed on Amycus' face. Barely daring to breathe, he took one silent tip-toe at a time along the corridor.

When he was finally opposite Amycus, he noticed the wand precariously perched in the man's limp hand. He stared at it for a minute until a grunt from Amycus brought him out of his reverie. He continued to shuffle silently across the edge of the corridor, his eyes not leaving Amycus, when he tripped and fell sideways with a deafening _crash. _

His glasses fell off his face and he could not make out anything in the darkness. As he felt around frantically on the floor for his glasses he noticed that Amycus had stopped snoring; there was silence.

His fingertips found metal and he forced his glasses back onto his face, getting up and recklessly sprinting down the rest of the corridor and the staircase loudly. He spun around a corner, skidding slightly as he ran. He raised an arm in the darkness.

His fingers had just made contact with the bathroom door-handle when a hand clamped down on his mouth, another across his chest, dragging him backwards into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4 Where Alliances Lie

**A/N: **Once again, thank you to those of you who review; it makes me so happy! And sorry for the late update, I had sort of given up, and now I'm back to it.

I received a review that questioned the fact that Hermione and Harry are still able to attend Hogwarts now that it is under Death Eater control, and why neither of them has been killed thus far. Just to clear this up, Hermione (and all the other Muggle-borns attending Hogwarts) have not been killed or sent to Azkaban because this story is not fully canon compliant. Sure, the Death Eaters are still _massively_ prejudiced and discriminatory against her kind, and she is likely to not be treated as fairly as other students, but they will _not_ go as far as killing off all Muggle-borns _yet_. As to why Harry has not been killed, the explanation shall come in the next chapter, as it is obviously something that Harry would be asking himself at this point. Thanks for questioning it though; I guess it shows that you are paying attention. Hope this clears it up?

**- Severus -**

Severus pushed the silk sheets off himself. Suddenly they felt cold and hard against his skin. He sat up and pressed his face against the mahogany headboard, feeling its warmth and rubbing his face against its smooth surface like a cat rubbing its head against its owner's legs. Lily's eyes were still blazing bright at the back of his own, no matter how tightly he closed them. It was like she was there, watching him wherever he looked.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his wand, his hand changing course halfway and heading for Potter's map instead. He opened it out fully and searched for the boy's dot in Gryffindor tower. It wasn't there, but halfway along a nearby corridor. Cursing silently at Potter's determination to break rules and land himself in trouble, Severus reached for his wand, lighting it to get a closer look at the map. The corridor was several floors above where he slept in the dungeons, and was not deserted. Amycus was on night-duty, and his dot was almost opposite Potter's on the map. He must have caught the boy on one of his night-time wanderings.

Severus stood up immediately, pocketing the map and throwing Potter's cloak over himself. The thing was a rare and beautiful piece of magic, Severus though to himself as he slipped through the school hurriedly. It concealed him completely and felt soft and cooling on his skin, but was not heavy, and so allowed him to move freely, unencumbered.

Within a minute he reached the corridor and positioned himself at the foot of the stairs, looking up into the dimly-lit passageway. He sighed in relief: Amycus was sleeping and was seemingly unaware of Potter's presence. The boy was edging along the wall, one step at a time, whilst keeping his eyes fixed on the slumped figure.

_Idiot boy, _Snape thought to himself, _he's not looking where he is going! _

Sure enough, the carpeted floor down this passageway was very uneven in places, and Potter's foot caught on a snag in the carpet. In one fluid motion Snape raised his wand and wordlessly cast a silencing charm between Potter and Amycus, just as the boy came crashing painfully to the floor, his glasses flying off his face. Amycus didn't even stir, but the boy was terrified; he looked rather like a rabbit caught in the headlights as he lifted his head. Slamming his glasses onto his face, Potter ran for it, heading down the stairs directly at Snape.

Ducking out of the way just in time, Snape made the decision. This was the perfect time to talk to the boy in private. He took off the cloak and pocketed it, and quickly followed Potter around the corner. The boy raised his arm to push open a door, and – as if in slow motion – Snape clamped his left hand across the boy's mouth, and his right under the boy's outstretched arm to pull him backwards by his chest.

Momentarily caught by surprise, Harry jerked in Snape's strong grip. He stumbled backwards and the two of them backed into an empty classroom. The door clicked shut behind them and Snape let go of Harry, locking the door and casting Muffliato upon it. He turned to face Harry, who was looking guiltily but defiantly at the floor.

"Do you have _any _idea what Amycus would have _done _to you if he had caught you?" Snape snarled angrily. There was a horrible silence as they stared at each other, both breathing heavily. At last Harry dropped his gaze to the floor. Had Snape just _saved _him?

"You're just like your father." Snape spat, rather more viciously than he had first intended. Still, Harry remained silent, although his hands balled into fists at his side. He shot a glare at Snape before resuming staring at the floor. This annoyed Snape more than anything. Where was the fight in the boy? Where was the defensive Gryffindor pride? He had never known Potter to remain silent when his father was insulted; the boy had no such control.

Perhaps it would be unwise to test the boy's endurance now though. He _was _trying to gain Potter's trust_, _after all. He forced his voice into near-politeness as he asked "Why are you out of bed?"

Disarmed by Snape's sudden show of politeness, Harry spoke at last. "I was going to have a shower... sir."

"At five o'clock in the morning?" Snape raised an eyebrow, oddly glad that Potter was talking finally, but unnerved by the boy's unusually display of something close to respect – perhaps it was fear?

"Yes, sir." Harry replied awkwardly, not really sure what to say.

Snape found himself – for once – speechless. What was the boy _playing_ at?

"Do you have any idea what Amycus would have done to you if he had caught you?" Snape repeated angrily, keeping his tone soft, but dangerous. "The Cruciatus Curse at the very least."

Fury ignited in Harry once more. There was actually a hint of concern in Snape's voice, but what did _he_ care if someone hurt him? Why was he even _pretending_ to care?

"Like you'd care if he did that to me," Harry spat bitterly.

"Of course I'd care -"

"You did it to me yourself!" Harry yelled, outraged at Snape's blatant lie. "Don't act like you didn't even _enjoy _it!"

He tried to push past Snape, who was blocking the door, looking horrified. He didn't move.

"Let me out." Harry said quietly.

"No."

Harry was reminded unpleasantly of the time that he had shouted at Professor Dumbledore in his fifth year. Guilt flowed through him, followed by anger at the man that stood before him, the man who had killed Dumbledore less than three months ago. He let out an inarticulate yell of rage and threw himself at Snape, drawing back his fist to punch Snape. Instantly, he was thrown backwards by an invisible force and he slammed into a desk, hitting his back painfully and falling off onto the floor, dragging parchment and ink bottles with him as, with instinct, he tried to grab the desk for support. The ink bottles smashed around him, staining the stone and sending fragments of glass skidding across the floor. Harry looked up in the darkness to see that Snape was standing over him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Reparo." He hissed tonelessly. The glass around Harry spun back together and formed the ink bottles again, but the ink stayed splattered on the floor around Harry in a kaleidoscope of crystal like patterns.

"Sit down." Snape muttered, indicating to a chair behind the desk. Harry pushed himself to his feet and stared at Snape, whose expression remained inscrutable. There had been an unusual lack of malice in his voice when he had given this command, and he had caught Harry off-guard. After a minute of looking at each other, Snape repeated, slightly more forcefully this time; "Sit down."

"Why?" Harry asked hesitatingly, still angry at Snape.

"Because I told you to."

Harry was sure that he was about to be punished for his outburst. He looked towards the door, calculating. If he ran for it, Snape would surely stop him and punish him further and Harry didn't have his wand to defend himself, or even better, to attack Snape.

"What are you going to do?" Harry said, his voice resigned as he sat down.

Snape's brow furrowed in confusion, and he pulled up a chair so that they sat opposite the desk, looking at each other in silence. Finally, Snape spoke. His voice was steady and calm, as though he was weighing each word.

"I am ... going to explain." He said, watching Harry closely. "Everything."

The last word seemed heavy and profound in the dark classroom and it lead to a deep feeling of mingled confusion and foreboding in Harry.

"I will ask you to remain silent while I explain, Potter, for I have a lot to tell." Snape's voice was awkward; clearly explaining things to a teenage boy was not high up on his list of things to do. His black eyes were fixed on Harry's, boring into his soul. Remembering Snape's reputation as a skilled Legilimens, Harry stared at a crack in the table, apparently transfixed by it, wondering heavily what Snape was about to explain.

"You are, I believe, under the impression that I am working for the Dark Lord. And that I..." he searched around for the right word, still staring at Harry's eyes. "_betrayed _Dumbledore's trust."

He paused; clearly contemplating something deeply. Finally, he flicked his wand – Harry flinched away instinctively, but all that happened was Dumbledore's pensieve appearing on the desk between them. Snape pressed his wand to the greasy roots of his hair and extracted a long memory. It hung in the air, neither gas nor liquid, and Snape dropped it into the pensieve with another flick of his wand. With a sharp jerk of his head he indicated for Harry to enter his memories. With a horrible feeling of trepidation, Harry leaned forward and put his head into the swirling, silvery substance. His feet left the ground and at once and he was flying, weightless through darkness and blurred colours. Snape had also plunged into the memory behind him, and together they hit the floor of a familiar office – the Headmaster's office.

Snape and Dumbledore were sat opposite each other at the Headmaster's desk; Snape especially looked as if he would rather not be there. The office was brightly lit by the summer sun that was bursting through every window, casting a golden glow on the entire room. Dumbledore was peering at Snape over his half-moon spectacles, speaking carefully and deliberately.

"Once you have killed me, Severus-" Snape opened his mouth to argue, but Dumbledore held up a hand for silence. "Do not argue, there is little time left. Once you have killed me, Harry will find it hard to trust you again-"

"He never trusted me-"

"Probably with good reason, seeing how you have treated him over these last few years." Dumbledore smiled wryly. "Now, it is _essential_ that you regain his trust. You need to be careful; the Dark Lord must not know of your alliance to me, or to Harry."

Snape looked outraged; he glared at Dumbledore but remained silent.

"In the highly likely event of you becoming Headmaster, you will need to make sure it seems that you are forever and irrevocably a servant to the Dark Lord and that you hate Harry Potter with all your heart."

Harry faintly thought he heard Snape mutter something about that not being hard, but Dumbledore ploughed on, a grave expression on his face.

"By whatever means, you must show them your..." he smiled ironically again, "true alliances, so to speak. But then you must explain everything to Harry. And... you will help him."

This seemed to be the last straw for Snape. He stood up angrily, glaring at Dumbledore.

"You ask too much." He snarled. "You expect me to just _kill _you, and then run along back to Hogwarts to _help _Potter? You won't even tell me what it is he has to do! Besides, the arrogant brat will never let me help him after-"

"He will. If I know Harry – and I'm pretty confident that I do – he will find it in himself to forgive you, eventually. As to what Harry has to do, that is between Harry and me. If Harry should choose to tell you that is his choice, but for the meantime you will teach him how to duel,"

"He is incapable." Snape snarled. "And he will never listen to me, or learn, let alone tell me his _plans."_

"It is Harry's decision as to whom he shares his secrets with, as it is your decision with your own secrets," Dumbledore peered at Snape over his half-moon spectacles, a knowing look in his twinkling eyes.

"I won't tell him." Snape spat. "Never."

"Perhaps you will find the right time." Dumbledore smiled sadly, before continuing. "As I was saying, you will teach Harry to duel – he needs to be able to protect himself from attack, now more than ever. You will continue to teach him Occlumency, as well as teaching him a selection of healing potions. He has a difficult task ahead of him and I want him to be as prepared as possible."

"Before you let him know th-" Snape shot out viciously, but Dumbledore interrupted him quickly.

"No. We have discussed this," he gave Snape a significant, dark look, and he said quietly, sadly. "And you will keep that information for a more... suitable time."

The Snape that stood with Harry in the memory suddenly gripped Harry's arm, as though realising that the memory had gone too far. Harry felt himself being dragged upwards through an icy darkness, landing firmly on the classroom floor. His head was spinning with all the information that he had just received. Dumbledore had _asked _Snape to kill him? And what information where they keeping from Harry?

"W-wha- I.. " Harry had so many burning questions, but one spun to the forefront of his mind; "Dumbledore asked you to kill him?"

"Yes." Snape said simply, sitting down stiffly in his chair.

Harry did the same, not sure how to feel towards Snape now.

"How do I know this isn't all fake?" Harry indicated to the pensieve. To him, it could quite easily be a lie. Sure, Dumbledore wanted to protect Draco, but this was Dumbledore they were talking about… he could solve anything.

"Surely Dumbledore taught you how to recognise a faked memory in all those nights that you spent closeted together?" Snape asked incredulously, somewhat frustrated that it was so hard for Harry to grasp the truth.

"You can't tell if something's faked." Harry stated solidly, although he was not sure himself.

"True, if the person reconstructs a memory so strong and flawless that it is passable and believable. That – although not impossible – would take a great feat of mental strength and concentration. However, even then small details would be incorrect, or seem wrong. Do you need more proof?"

Harry contemplated. He thought about the memory, the realism of Dumbledore and the truth in what he said. If Snape had invented this memory it would have had more purpose – the conversation had veered off as if in a natural conversation. This reminded Harry of something.

"What are you hiding?" he blurted out at random. At the look on Snape's face, he amended. "Twice in that memory… you're keeping something from me. Both you and Dumbledore know something-"

"That is not of your concern." Snape said quickly.

"You expect me to trust you, and yet you keep dark secrets from me?"

"Who said they were dark?" was all Snape said. He stood, and unlocked the door, opening it enough to leave a full view of the corridor and the staircase above it.

"This," he pointed towards the slumped figure of Amycus at the top of the stairs, "this is what I am protecting you from. You don't stand a chance against them, against Him. You never have. All those years I was protecting you, don't you see?"

_Click. _Of course. Snape had been trying to protect him ever since he arrived at Hogwarts, ever since his first year when he beat Voldemort for the first time, purely out of luck. Perhaps he would not be so lucky this time. And here Snape was. Offering help.

But something didn't fit.

"You used the Cruciatus Curse on me."

"I had to!" frustration leaked into Snape's dark tone again and he shut the door slowly, facing Harry face on. "My position within the Death Eaters is crucial. I find out their plans, I can help you. But they must not know of my true alliances or I will be killed,"

"Then so will I." Finally, the truth. It now seemed incontrovertible, and a somewhat heavy burden. If Snape died, he had nothing. He would die.

"So will you."

**A/N: **Please tell me what you think about keeping everyone in character, as I found this chapter particularly hard to write. Thanks.


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